LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Slap. Gopijnsljt l?a 

Shelf 3...§;i v 3 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Vagabond Rhymes. 



Vagabond Rhymes 



n V 
AN IDLER 



X ^"' 



BOSTON 
J. G. CUFPLES COMPANY 

250 Boylston Street 



^ ^V 



'^r 






o 



Copyright, 1892, 
By J. G. CuppLES Company. 



All Jiurfits Reserved. 



DEDICATION. 



W& JRf Fatihep, 



CONTENTS. 



At Twilight 

Distrust 

A Murderer to the Spectre of the 

Old Year 
The Bohkmiax 
My Only Love 
Watchman, Tell I's of the Night 
A Memory .... 
Good News 
The Woman's Side 
David Before Saul. 
Lilies of the Valley 
The Wooing of the Waters 
My Dead .... 
In May .... 

Summer Days 
The Listlessness of Love 
The Storm at Night 

For M .... 

The Monk's Death . 

"Let There be Light" . 

No\ember 

Delight 

Jesus, be My Life, My Lover 

My Love 

Douglas 

At the Judgment 

The Questioner of the Sphinx 

The Robin's Wooing 



6 

12 
14 
16 
18 
18 
I'J 
22 
2.J 
26 
29 
31 
32 
33 
35 
41 
41 
48 
4!) 
51 
53 
53 
55 
57 
59 
60 



CONTENTS. 



My Thoughts are Where M\ 


-self 




Would Be . . . 




05 


The Bridal 






Go 


October 






07 


The Red Rose . 






09 


My Dead Hope . 






70 


Confidenxe 






72 


Separation 






78 


The Shape of a Kiss 






76 


False .... 






78 


Who Shall Forbid Me 






81 


Pro and Con 






81 


Starlight . 






8^ 


Thoughts of God 






85 


After Long Years . 






8'J 


A Girl's Prayer 






1)0 


Rowing 






1)2 


The Great Ideal 






1)4 


Song .... 






90 


Spring Again 






98 


-SORROVV 






99 


Thanksgiving 




101 


The Fisherman's Daughter 




104 


Together 






109 



AT TWILIGHT. 

Never yet have eyes 

Thrilled me through like tlilne. 
Oh, 'tis Paradise 

To touch thy lips with mine. 

When the tvvilio^lit wanino^ 
Leaves the mountains dun, 

And the sea complaining 
Calleth for the sun, 

Then love's subtle essence 
Worketh its sw^eet charm ; 

I sun me in thy presence 

And feel my heart grow warm. 

O love, thou art my day ; 

Rain down thy beams on me. 
Oh, 'twere heaven on earth, May, 

To spend my life vvitli thee. 



DISTRUST. 

What shall I show you," the Spirit 

said. 
As he looked in my lace and smiled ; 



2 P'AGABO.Vn RHYMES. 

*' From the land of tlie living or land 
of the dead, 
What shall it be, my child?" 

Pale in its glory the moonlight dreamed. 
Softening the light of his eyes ; 

Oh, a radiant light from his presence 
streamed. 
And hushed were the summer skies. 

''Never a sight from the east to the 
west, 
From the sky to the restless sea, 
From the snow-crowned Alp to a 
robin's nest. 
Can ever escape from me. 

The deep, deep heart of tlie deepest 
mine. 

Or the wandering thoughts of a bird. 
The silent growth of the northern pine, — 

Vou have but to say the word." 

Within my restless, eager heart 
A hundred longings woke ; 

But 1 turned where the Spirit stood 
apart. 
And the strongest impulse spoke. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 3 

** Show me his heart whom I call my 
love ; 

Show me his very soul ; 
Be it false, or true as the heaven above. 

Come, I would know the whole." 

The Spirit turned ; his unfathomed eyes 

Looked full into my own; 
Was it pain, or pity, or surprise? 

But the risk was mine alone. 

*' But think a moment," he slowly said : 

" A human heart laid bare 
Is a fearful thing ; are you not afraid?" 

And his touch was on my hair. 

O, you who have felt the thronging 
rush 
Of the thoughts that scorn control, 
Know well that no warning voice can 
hush 
The wild cry of the soul. 

And though gentler whispers shyly 
spoke, 
And trust from its throne said "Nay," 
My heart from its soft confinement 
broke. 
And said, "I will have my way." 



VA (iA BOXD n/lVAfES. 



I held my breath, then turned to see 

A human heart's deep mystery. 

As in a mirror I saw there 

The heart of my true love laid bare. 

Ah, mighty love was but a part 

Of that great living, quivering heart; 

Passions and thoughts I had not dreamed 

At home amid its windings seemed ; 

Desires and high ambitions thronged 

The heart that unto love belonged. 

But, kindling over all, a glow 

That colder natures never know, 

Illumined all with its warm light — 

The fireside of his heart was bright — 

The glow from Love's own glorious 

throne ; 
The form enshrined there was my own. 
And yet the glance of other eyes 
That once had made his Paradise, 
Had left the ashes of their fires 
To show, not Love, but Like expires. 
Here tenderness enwrapped his soul ; 
There mighty passions scorned control ; 
And storms I quivered but to see 
Swept o'er his heart tumultuously. 
Ambition burned within his breast. 
And love, with all its sweet unrest. 



VAGABONJJ n/IYiMES. 5 

My heart forgot its jealousy 

To see that glorious pageantry 

Of noble thought and lofty plan, 

Of love toward God and help for man ; 

Deep musing o'er the world's great 

past; 
Glances on things forbidden cast; 
Of strong resolve, of burdens borne 
Of which none ever knew the thorn ; 
Of ponderings over problems deep ; . 
Of wearyings for death's sweet sleep; 
Of glad delight in life ; of dreams 
Whose magical, enchanting gleams 
Flash out and fade, dying at birth ; 
Whose home, like ours, is not the earth. 



Breathless indeed, I bowed my head. 

Better than my own heart, 1 said, 

I know my dear love's noble heart. 

How have I ever made a part 

Of all that wide and grand domain? 

And Oh, the shame and bitter pain 

Of choosing not to trust, but see ; 

Of disregarding privacy. 

Love, knewest thou I'd unveiled thy 

shrine, 
Couldst thou forgive that look of mine? 



VAC ABO ND 7C H YME S. 



His step ; and all my pulses start ; 
His voice makes music in my heart; 
And one great storm of shame and 

bliss 
Comes with the rapture of his kiss. 
Were ever lover's eves so true ! 
O love, that I had trusted you ! 



A MURDERER TO THE SPECTRE 
OF THE OLD YEAR. 

Thou'rtdead, Old Year, what dost thou 
here .^ 
Thou'rt woven in the story 
Of a living heart, whose pulses start 

At this spectre of by-gone glory. 
Old year, thou'rt dead, why lift thy 
head 
To mock at thy former glory ? 

Thou'rtdead, Old Man ; thy death groan 

ran 
Through a midnight's shuddering stroke. 
'Twas thy last pulse-beat, and thy faint 

life-heat 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 7 

Burnt out as the new year broke. 
I whispered a sliout as thy life went 
out, 
And smiled as the New Year woke. 

When thou wert young as the year new 
sprung 
From eternity's dread womb, 
I hailed thy birth with a heartier mirth 

Than e'er, in the years to come, 
I shall know, when close on a year's 
death throe 
A New Year's steps shall come. 

\\ hen I hailed thy birth I was glad as 
earth 

On her creation morn ; 
Ere thy death I hail, goes up a wail 

Like that when sin was born. 
Whilst thou drew breath, in living death 

My awful crime was born. 

The smiling morn when thou wert born 
Gave to me love and glory. 

Ere the night-chime tolled thy death time 
Earth held an awful story ; 

The harsh wind wailed and the oak 
tree quailed 
And the stars paled at the story. 



8 VAGABOjVD ju/ymes. 

The forest wild my guilt beguiled ; 

I thought its awful moaning, 
The strong wind's crash through the 
rustling ash 

Would drown an old man's groaning. 
Old Year, thou'st sighed like him who 



died- 



O, Heaven ! his awful groanin 



to 



His hair was white as thine to-night. 

Old Year, where thou liest dead ; 
Thou dost lift thipe eyes, — when an old 
man dies 
Does he still lift up his head? 
When I struck the blow that laid him 
low 
Why did he lift his head? 

Still is it dead, that old white head 

With the slow blood dripping down ? 
The red stain's part of my own red 
heart, 
Yet its red sea will not drown 
The awful thought of the deed I 
wrought 
When I struck the old man down. 

W^is that thy shriek, or but the creak 

Of the ages' closing door 
On this last dead year ? O, grim and sere, 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Art thou dead forevermore ? 
Hell seal thy tomb ; yet my heart has 
room 
For thy memory evermore. 

The echoes curst of his last outburst 

Forever and ever roll ; 
x\nd that red blood's rust, thous^h the 
heart be dust, »• 

Eats into my inmost soul. 

echoing call ! O red blood's foil ! 

ruined, ruined soul. 

1 stifled pain as once and again 

Thou didst beg thy life from me. 
Now thou wilt not go, though thou 
dost know 

How I plead for liberty, — 
For an empty heart and a night apart 

From that frightful memory. 

The old year dies, but thy haunting 
eyes 
Close not with the waning year ; 
The glad young morn brings the year 
new-born, 
But for me it holds no cheer. 
My deed is done; erethe set of sun 

1 shall follow my fatal year. 



10 VAGABOXD RHYMES. 

One year? O fool ! Eternity's school 

Can never be so long 
As each dragging night, when, mad for 
light, 
I watched for the first bird's song; 
Then cursed the dawn and wished it 
gone. 
As the slow day crept along. 

Could the vision die from my soul's 
strained eye. 
Could my mad heart hear no more 
The hoarse, wild cry of thine agony, 

I could rest forevermore. 
But I would not spare, why shouldst 
thou care 
That mv heart rests nevermore. 

Mv hot brain whirls ; are there other 
worlds 
Where all tortured hearts forget? 
Oh, must I be I, though the years roll 
by- 
Shall I see thy struggle yet? 
Revenge is thine, O victim mine. 
Thou dost triumph o'er me yet. 

What did I say when I used to pray — 
Forgive us, O God, each debt. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. H 

As %vc forgive — Ah, did I let him live 
When he prayed with lips blood-wet? 

My lips are dumb; O madness, come. 
For earth and hell have met. 

I have watched for thee ; dost thou 
come for me ? 
On the trail of the dying year 
Thy slow step creeps from the mystic 
deeps 
Where mad souls disappear ; 
From the sockets bare of the dead man 
there 
Thy filmy eyes appear. 

I see thee now ; on thy wrinkled brow 
The seal of my crime is set. 

Why dost thou stand with uplifted hand 
And beard with the red blood wet? 

Thou beckon'st me ; I go with thee. 
Canst make my heart forget? 

Not faint and slow, tliough thy hair be 
snow ; 
Red eyes, I w ill not fiee ; 
Bring the old dead year, and my victim 
here. 
To walk alonsf with thee. 



12 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Grim Death doth come, witli liis muf- 
fled drum, 
To walk amon^: the three. 



THE BOHEMIAN.* 

I have tlie whole world for my home ; 
Rare, wide fields for me to roam 
Stretch themselves beyond my view, 
Beckoning me to w^anderings new ; 
Even the horizon's bound 
Cannot clasp my meadows round. 
The wide sky, my arching roof, 
And the grass, an emerald woof, 
Compass in their glorious sweep 
Beauties given to their keep — 
Given in trust for the free heart 
That makes them of itself a part. 
The universe is for the sake 
Of him w'ho can reach out and take. 
The sunshine is my breath of life. 
The winds are with my music rife. 
The birds sing to express my glee. 
And the cloud frescoes are for me. 
Ye who would live in ecstacy. 
Come and share my home with me. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 13 

Many a secret I have caught 

From the lips of Nature, taug'.it 

When I drew so close to her 

That I felt her heart's warm stir. 

The white stars have dropped a liglit 

On the secret ways of night 

That one who caught not the swift 

glance 
Would think unmeaning radiance. 
Oriel windows of the sunrise 
Open outlooks to the far skies ; 
Glowing portals of the sunset 
Flash forth glories but half-dreamed 

Glories bright though vanishing 
As the sweep of seraph's wing. 
If you would all these glories see, 
Come and make your home with me. 

The half-formed ring of gorgeous dyes 
vSpans for me the April skies ; 
Butterflies unfold their wings 
To bear my thoughts like precious 

things ; 
Rarest flowers their perfumes bear 
To the breeze that lifts my hair; 
Humming birds my ears surprise 
With a word from Paradise; 



14 VAGABOiVn RHYMES. 

Blooms of Spring I love to breathe 
As I stand their sweets beneath 
And so I chase the enchanted time 
From summer clime to summer clime. 
Still following a wayward will ; 
A magic halo 'round me still. 
If such scenes flash before your eyes 
Rainbow peeps of Paradise, 
Ask Bohemia's child to show 
How you may such pleasures know. 



* Published several years ago in the Trib- 



une. 



MY ONLY LOVE. 

My only love, my only love. 

How fair thy cherished image grows ; 
But on 2 real glimpse of thee would 
prove 

Like sunrise over Alpine snows. 

My only love ; the thought of thee 
Wears deep into my longing heart. 

Why art thou not with me, with me, 
And how could hands so loving part? 

The day is but a sigh for thee ; 

The flight a dream that thou art 
here ; 



P^yiGABOJVD RHYMES. 15 

But morning brings reality, 

And tired night the hopeless tear. 

Where art thou now, my pearl of worth, 
And is thy loving thought with me? 

While mine goes wandering o'er tlie 
earth 
To seek for thee, to seek for thee. 

Cannot my longing draw thee, love, 
Home to my very heart of hearts? 

Come to my waiting arms and prove 
What warmth and vigor love imparts. 

Pray thou to heaven, and I will pray ; 

When our prayers meet before the 
throne 
Will not high heaven find a way 

To give to waiting love his own? 

Aly only love ! The thought of thee 
Is all of heaven my life has known ; 

Were thy face bending over me 

The world might pass ; I'tl have my 
own. 

My only love ! My onl}^ love ! 

Thou art my music, thou my light. 



IT) VAGABOND RHYMES. 



O wild, bright strain, come l)ack and 
prove 
That mornintr cometh after night. 



"WATCHMAN, TELL US OF 
THE NIGHT."* 

Watcliman, what of the night? 
Say, does the morning dawn? 

Is there a streak of light? 
Or does the night go on 

Farther and farther stretching down 

Into the midnight's bhickest frown? 

Watchman, what of the night? 
What of the coming day ? 

Is there a striigghng light 
Casting a doubtful ray? - 

Is there a gleam of hope? Oh, say. 

Is there a glimmer of coming day? 

Watchman, what of the night? 
We are in valleys low ; 

You, on the mountain height, 
Can catch the first, faint glow ; 

Signal us when the longed-for light 

Flashes its way through the waiting 
ni":ht. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 17 

Watchman, what of the night? 
No sign o'er tlie far-off hills? 

No faintest rim of light 
The dark horizon fills? 

No hint of dawn from the silent 
heaven? 

No sun-lit peak ? No twilight, even ? 

Watchman, what of the night? 
In my heart the shadows fall. 

Fair Hope has taken flight, 
The heavens are her pall. 

Smothering Despair has folded wing, 

And broods o'er every earthly thing. 

Watchman, wdiat of the night? 
A light! a light! you say? 

'Tis but the moon's pale light, 
'Tis but a star's faint ray, 

'Tis but a mock of the long delay, 

'Tis — O watchman is it the day"^ 

Watchman, what of the day? 
Does it glint the night-cold hills? 

Has't come? I pray you say. 
Oh, shout till echo thrills. 

'Tis come, at last I hear you say. 

My soul lies wrapped in endless day. 



* Published several years ago in the Sfand- 
a) d. 



A MEMORY. 

Once when you stood in lover's mood, 

The summer air around us glistening — 

''Sweet, you are not afraid?" you 

said : 

"Your shy lips quiver at love's 

christening." 

Though months have gone I hear your 
tone ; 
I see your look, your full lips parted. 
When such thoughts come of voices 
dumb - 
The warm tide leaves us too full- 
hearted. 

Now sleeping well where no lips tell 
How achingly, my love, I miss you, 

Cold and away, my heart's loved day. 
The dumb roots of the lilies kiss you. 



GOOD NEWS. 

A Ijttle bird of air 

Whispered a song to me ; 



VAGABOjVn RHYMES. W) 

The clay grew wondrous fair, 
The trees waved gleefully ; 

And happy words came bubbling to my 
lips; 

And on the sea of dreams I launched a 
hundred ships. 

Would'st know the song he sang? 

Perhaps no song to thee. 
But oh, for me it rang 

A hundred bells of glee. 
To-day for me uncloses 

A flower of joy to come ; 
When June comes with its roses 

My darling will come home. 



THE WOMAN'S SIDE. 

So you were only playing with me"^ 

laughing between the acts 
To see how I took the play for truth, 

and all your jests for facts. 
A woman's heart for a plaything, Sir, 

does it serve your purpose well .^ 
What if 'twere crushed in the playing; 

why, a woman dare not tell. 



2U VAGABOND /?//VMES. 

In the play of hearts, in tanness, Sir, 

tl^.ere surely should be two ; 
Vet that but one was playing here, 

wakes only mirth in you. 
Did you keep your heart tor better 

things? I know 'tis safest so; 
It mav be you never had a heart, or lost 

it long ago. 

Oh, once I had a girl's soft heart, Sir; 

but that seems long, long since ; 
And a childish dream I remember, of 

finding my foiry Prince. 
But the deepest love can change to 

scorn, and scorn is a hard, hard 

test ; 
And the knowledge of your baseness 

came to crown yom- bitter jest. 

Oh, doubt and scorn to a heart that's 

loved, wormwood thev are, and 

gall ; 
And love and the lover both a dream, is 

the saddest lot of all. 
No tender memories linger to keep 

human and soft and brave 
The heart that cherished a shadow love, 

— a shadow claims no grave. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 21 

Go laugh at your jest o'er the wine cup ; 

tell it to careless friends. 
A "Bravo, my boy, another now," 

will make you full amends. 
Laugh at the woman you trifled with ; 

but ever while life endures. 
In my soul's deep echoless caverns my 

laugh shall answer yours. 



You laugh at the careless breaking of 

an innocent girl's heart ; 
At her guilelessness in trusting one 

who only played a part ; 
You laugh at your skill in trickery ; at 

the pleasure 'twas to see 
A girl's cheek flush at your approach, 

the while your thoughts were free. 



I laugh at the bitter knowledge that a 

woman's soul can be 
Parted from all sweet trustfulness by a 

wide eternity. 
I laugh at myself, at you, at heaven ; — 

but a woman's scorn is weak. 
No need to fear for yourself, brave Sir ; 

a woman may not speak. 



DAVID BEFORE SAUL. 

Rest thy heart, O mighty King. 
Let thy servant David sing 

All thy soul to lull. 
Cease, O King, to be distressed, 
While the land which thou hast blest, 

With thy praise is full. 

I remember how thy word — 
Stronger than another's sword — 

Put our foes to flight ; 
And thy mighty son didst make 
All the bold Philistines quake, 

As they felt him smite. 

Shall not God who helped thee fight 
Wrap thee still about with might? 

Oh, exult in God ! 
Doth thy sin, O King, avail 
Still to make thy strong heart quail. 

Lest 'tis Israel rod.'* 

Once as I my father's sheep 
On Judea's hill did keep, 
Came a lion there. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 23 

Hungry for the sweet lamb's blood ; 
But I smote him where he stood, 
Through my God's strong care. 

God Is strong to conquer still ; 
Ofter up thy kingly will ; 

Cry for strength to drive 
All the lion of thy sin 
From its lair, thy heart within, 

And save thy soul alive. 

Thou shaltfind a sweeter bed, 
\Vith his foot upon thy head, 

O thou mighty King, 
Than upon another's breast. 
In Jehovah's strength is rest. 

Thou his praise wilt sing. 



LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 

Those tiny, fragrant bells, 
How soft their music swells 

Ringing across the fields of memory. 
My heart responding thrills. 
With pain and rapture fills, 

And dreams o'er the Has Been and the 
To Be. 



24 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

That fairy melody, 

Pregnant with thoughts for me, 
What gives it power to stir my being so ? 

Ah, there's no power can move 

Like the strange power of love. 
And love has linked the flower to long 
ago. 

In happy childhood days 
This flower could fix my gaze 
And fill my childish heart with mute 
delight ; 
So childish foncy weaves 
A charm about its leaves 
And lends a glamor to its own pure 
white. 

That careless, merry time 
Comes back in the soft chime 
Of these sweet lilies, now so wondrous 
fair. 
In childlike faith I kneel, 
And once again 1 feel 
A gentle hand slow wandering o'er my 
hair. 

Now summer's violets grow. 
And winter's tempests blow 
Above that loving hand whose love was 
power. 



VAGABOuVn RHYMES. 25 

But this sweet flower's breath 
Has bridged the gulf of death 
And given me back an angel for this 
hour. 

Another memory weaves 
Its spell around thy leaves, 
O mystic flower, high throned in my 
heart. 
Thy flowers were the last 
From severing hands that passed, 
When one dear friend from her she 
loved must part. 

O fiiithful friend and true, 

]My thoughts reach out to you. 
Borne on the fragrance of a tiny flower. 

O precious bond of love. 

True as the heaven above. 
Our souls may meet, joined by that 
wondrous power. 

Though deep seas roll between, 

And years must intervene 
Before I hear thy voice, beloved, again. 

Thy spirit answers mine, 

My soul is close to thine ; 
The witchery of a flower binds li]:e a 
chain. 



26 VAGABOXn RHYMES. 

Ah, Heaven ! another love 
Its close-linked chain has wove 
About these lustrous, pure, clear-ring- 
ingbells; 
A love that fills the earth, 
That has in heaven its birth. 
Looks back to heaven, and greater 
heaven foretells. 

O bells that skyw^^rd reach 

God's purity to teach, 
*' Consider us," thy fragrant breaths 
exhale : 

" To you His care we show 

That you no care may know." 
He feeds amono: the lilies of the vale. 



THE WOOING OF THE WATERS. 

Come, come. 
My waves are a cradle, as dainty-sweet 

As ever felt the touch of feet. 
Softly, softly, I lull to sleep. 
O give yourself to me to keep, 
I'll keep you safe. 
Come. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 27 

Come, come. 
My waves are lovers, more fond and 
true 
Than ever whispered vows to you. 
Then trustfully bend down and meet 
The low waves pleading at your feet. 
I'll love you so. 
Come. 

Come, come. 
My heart is a tempest that roars in me ; 

Come make of it a summer sea. 
Clearly, sweetly, as crystals ring. 
The sea its gratitude shall sing. 
I'll sing for you. 
Come. 

Come, come. 
My waves are harp strings, and every 
wave 
Shall give the music you so crave. 
I'll blow my winds through all my 
shells. 
Till sound her deep heart-secret tells 
For you, my love. 
Come. 

Come, come, 
I'll stir my echoes that wander free 
To catch heaven's sweetest poetry. 



28 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Till tunefully the waves repeat 
A poem more than earthly sweet. 
Will you not come? 
Come. 

Come, come. 
I know thy impulse ; why not yield? 
Your eyes your longings have re- 
vealed. 
Loving, trustful, come down to me. 
Into the wide arms of the sea. 
I'll fold you close. 
Come. 

Come, come. 
My waves are a haven where you may 
rest, 
No more by vague, vain dreams o^- 
pressed. 
Hear how the winds my love repeat ; 
Oh, listen to their music sweet. 
I'll give you rest. 
Come. 

Come, come. 
Oh, hear the waters, as, pure and clear^ 

They murmur music in your ear. 
Sweetly, sweetly, they tell of rest. 



VAGABOND RHTMES. 29 

Then lay your cheek down on my 
breast. 
I'll give you peace. 
Come. 



MY DEAD. 

Soft came the moaning from the east; 

Sweet sang the birds at dawn. 
The music in my heart had ceased ; 

My life's sweet light was gone. 

O my heart's love ! No answering look 
From those fixed, half-shut eyes. 

God grant me but a little nook 
By his, in Thy wide skies. 

His lips are dumb at my caress, 

'Twas never so before. 
God, show a Father's tenderness. 

Make room for one soul more. 

Some spirit, made of air and love, 

Today grant me thy place ; 
Still in his presence would I move, 

And see his living face, 



30 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

And hear his voice; 'twould thrill my 
heart 
Above the angel choirs — 
His low " my love ! " — till tears would 
start, 
And quench my heart's mad fires. 

O God ! my love ! must Thou take hirm 
Who 'round my heart has grown, 

When all thy sweet- voiced seraphim 
Stand ready at Thy throne ? 

How couldst Thou let one human heart 

Unto another mate. 
Till it grew of itself a part, 

Then leave it desolate. 

No answer from the cruel heaven.^ 
Comes there no second dawn ? 

To hearts the fair, sweet day is given^ 
And then the night comes on. 

O human heart, too mad, too hot, 

Too finite, to see true. 
Your love he knows ; have you forgot? 

Your Father knoweth, too. 

His love is greater far than yours ; 
He gives your love His best. 



vagaboNjD /rhymes. 31 

Be yours the love that best endures ; 
Be his, God's perfect rest. 

Selfish ! once more the dead lips press. 

'Tis human to deplore 
That earth should have one sufferer less 

And Heaven one singer more. 



IN MAY. 

The dallying summer lingers yet, 

The year's reluctant guest. 
The printer could my heart forget, 

Perhaps 'twould be at rest. 

A year ago my eager heart 

Knew^ nothing but delight. 
But novsr in pain I walk apart, 

My sunshine lost in night. 

Last summer every light wind stirred 

My heart into a song ; 
I was in love with every bird, 

Happy the whole day long. 

Joy was my friend ; but now, grown 
shy, 
She turns her eyes away. 



32 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

I thought I wished that I might die 
Before the first June day ; 

But some sweet hope has stirred my 
heart 

In sympathy with spring, 
And whispered, joy may be thy part 

Before the birds take wing. 



SUMMER DAYS.* 

O gladness of sweet summer da3-s, that 

will not leave off singing ; 
A passion softened into peace ; fresh joy 

forever bringing 
To children, mad with mirth, Avho 

seem so tireless fond of playing ; 
To erring souls all tempest-tossed, for 

whom the Christ is praying. 

A breath from Adam's paradise the 
careless breeze is flinging ; 

An echo from an angel's harp a joyous 
bird is singing. 

Earth lieth still in restfulness save pass- 
ing thrills aquiver 

As tangled sunbeams knit and break 
across a mighty river. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 33 

Between the tangle of the leaves the 

broken simshuie dances ; 
While, softly dappling all the grass, 

the shade its light enhances. 
A wealth of fragrance weights the air, 

so subtly sweet pervading 
That we forget the gentle flowers whose 

life it is, are fading. 

Oh, earth to us is very sweet when on 
her children smiling ; 

With charming wiles, in varied moods, 
our human hearts begfuiling;. 

" Sleep soft," she whispers when we 
rest; or, "wake with me to sing- 
ing." 

And in our hearts her loving call will 
never leave off ringing. 



* Published several years ago in the Trib- 
une. 



THE LISTLESSNESS OF LOVE. 

Ah, love, they say, can give sweet tone 
To the fond lips of many a one 
Who but for love were dumb ; 



34 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

But love, for me, untunes my lyre. 
Gives to my wild heart all its fire. 
To which words will not come. 



I leave my flowers beside the stream. 
And pass them in a waking dream, 

A wordless trance of love. 
My sweetest songs are all unsung. 
Though my heart-strings, so tightly 
strung, 

Yearn all this love to prove. 



My half- writ poem on the shelf 
Sighs down to me, its other self, 

Yet looks and sighs in vain ; 
My listless fingers cannot write, 
And so I sit aside to-night 
And ponder in the fading light 

O'er this delicious pain. 



The maidens mock me as they pass 
With lightsome footsteps on the grass 

*' Ah ! she is sick for love." 
I scarcely hear their mocking cries ; 
I see the beauty of his eyes 

Bent on me from above. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 35 

I hear again his tender tone, 
So low, caught by my ear alone; 

His breath is on my lips ; 
All earth and heaven melt away, 
As night is lost in glorious day, 

As suns the stars eclipse. 

Ah, might I lie forever here. 
While softly whispered in my ear 

I hear love's softest sighs ! 
Nay, dreams are sweet, but hasten, 

night, 
And bring me, with the morning light, 

The heaven of his eyes. 



THE STORM AT NIGHT. 

I woke from sweetest wanderings of a 

dream 
To hear a torrent dashing 'gainst the 

pane, 
The trembling stars drenched by the 

blinding stream. 
The moonlight drowned and strangled 

by the rain. 
Against the house the helpless branches 

tossed, — 



8G VAG ABOARD /RHYMES. 

Tossed wildly, sobbing like a fright- 
ened child ; 
The winds shrieked like the cryings of 
the*lost. 
Loud was the storm, and all the night 
was wild. 

And quick, in sheets of flame, 
The vivid lightning came 
Flashing against the windows, blinding 
white ; 

Blind as a human passion, 
When, deaf to all compassion, 
It will but strike, and strike with all its 
miorht. 



The thunder rolled incessant, grandly 
deep, 
With sullen threatenings as it died 
away. 
And burst again with the dread light- 
ning's leap, 
Till earth w^as lit as with the glare of 
day,^ 
And deafened by such sounds as might 
have broken 
Over the listeninfr worlds at Adam's 



VAGABOND J?//YMBS. 37 

"When God the awful curse had sternly 
spoken, 
And bade the angel guard the gates 
within. 

The lurid lightning's flash, 
That cut, with widening gash, 
The breathing darkness, circling 'round 
the earth, 

Turned, like that sword's dread 

glare 
Which pierced the darkening air 
And lit with terror sin's most awful 
birth. 



And as the thunder deepened in its 
flight 
I heard the cursings of that rebel host 
That, exiled, fell from fairest living 
light 
Into the deepest midnight darkness 
tossed. 
That yawned to welcome them, as black- 
browed clouds 
Delight to swallow up the evening 
stars ; 
For these were angels once, these exile 
crowds. 



38 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

And gladly Hell her creaking doar 
unb ill's. 

It hurt me to draw breath ; 
I thought upon tliat death — 
Death — naught but Hell knows all that 
dreadful word. 

And still the storm without 
Raged, every breath a shout 
That echoed back until all Heaven 
seemed stirred. 

Fierce warred the elements, as angels 
warred, 
God's angels 'gainst the hosts of Lu- 
cifer, 
When fell that prince of ingrates, evil- 
starred ; 
God's angels watching w^ith indignant 
stir. 
Hush ! hear their falling in the rustling 
leaves. 
Grown softer as the distance gathers 
length ; 
And as the reaper gathers in his sheaves 
So Hell receives that shattered rebel 
strength. 

And as the thunder dies 
Adown the brightening skies, 



VAGABOiVn RHYMES. 39 

Closer now in the darkness, grey toward 
Heaven, 

The sound of teardrops falling, 
And angel voices calling 

To Eden's exiles, sinning yet forgiven. 

In gradual calm the storm-clouds rolled 
awa}' ; 
And but the hushdd sobbing of the 
night,* 
Or gleam of raindrops in the lightning's 
play, 
Told of the strife and struggle since 
the light. 
The darkness lifted into dawn's cool 

The shadows fled away as if fierce 
driven, 
And soft and faint, the first pale light 
of day 
Came creeping shyly up the eastern 
heaven. 

And just above that light. 
As on the brow of night, 
There hung the glory of the morning 
star; 

That fair star, once the crowning 
Of him, the son of morning, 



40 yAGABONB RHYMES. 

Whose self-discrowning taught the 
heavens war. 



Now doubly lustrous in its calm, pure 
peace, 
The mighty Victor claims it for His 
own. 
But see ! the signs of coming day in- 
crease, 
The starlight pales, the clouds of 
night have flown. 
A blush has swept across the first white 
thrills. 
The light the birds have clamored 
for has come. 
The day is waiting on the eastern liills, 
The voices of the night and storm are 
dumb. 

And soft, if mortal sense 
Could bridge the void immense. 
Earth might have heard the angels 
singing clear. 

Then smiled the Infinite, 
Bending from loftiest height. 
The stormy night was o'er ; the morn 
was here. 



FOR M- 



When the nightingale loves the rose 
He can tell his love in song. 

But must I be dumb, my love, 
When I have loved so long? 

Could my voice vie with his singing, 
My rose, I would haste to woo ; 

But I have but a tripping human tongue- 
Will just " I love you " do? 



THE MONK'S DEATH. 

I am dying, they say. 

If it were but the earth slipping 'way 
from my grasp, 

That the heavens might fill up my hun- 
gering clasp, 

Would I cling, do you think, to this 
sin-spotted earth 

If I knew that this death were a glori- 
ous birth ? 



42 VAGABOXD RHYMES. 

If I knew ! but, ah me ! 
They told me that I should find rest for 

my soul ; 
That the wild waves of doubt would 

all harmlessly roll 
Against the great Church ; and once 

folded within 
There would slip off forever the fetters 

of sin. 

They have cheated thee, Soul. 
They told thee that, once turn thy back 

upon earth. 
Strangle down its sweet yearningness, 

know but its dearth. 
And the glories of Heaven should dawn 

on thy sight, 
And thy poor human darkness be 

flooded with light. 

Oh, their promise was smooth ; 
"Pray the saints who shall importune 

Heaven for thee ; 
To the Pope and the Church bend a 

reverent knee ; 
And Mary, the Mother, shall be thy 

great guide 
When thou comest to die." — But, O 

Soul, they have lied. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 43 

I have fasted and prayed. 
I have kept down the flesh, I have fasted 

until 
The frail body w^as scarcely the ])reath 

of the will. 
"The fast of the body " — these sounds 

how they roll 
Familiarly on — "is the feast of the 

soul." 

O my soul, how it pains 
To go back o'er the terrible struggle 

and strain, 
The agonized wrestling — O God, all in 

vain ! 
Heart-sickening to struggle, wrapped 

'round with the night. 
When I would have died for a glimmer 

of light. 

Pray the saints, do they say? 
If heaven could be taken by storm, it 

were mine. 
But those saints live too far ; and then — 

are they divine? 
They were men when they lived on 

earth, now are they more? 
Did they step into holier selves, leaving 

our shore? 



44 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

O the light ! holy light ! 

It has flooded the earth with its glori- 
ous blaze, 

Oh, why should the soul wander dark 
through the maze 

Of the spiritual world? Would to 
God that a part 

Of earth's sunlight were starlight, at 
least, to the heart. 

By strict penance and prayer. 
By unfoltering obedience, limitless 

trust, 
By the struggle in darkness, bowed 

down to the dust. 
By confession, by fasting, by groping 

the way. 
We may — slip from the lash of the 

Judge in " that Day." 

Oh, cry shame on such life ! 
If this be so barren, how shall that life 

be 
So flooded with glory as God's life must 

be? 
The stars would grow pale shining 

down through such air, 
And closing their eyes, to us no light 

were there. 



VAGABOND I^HYMES. 45 

And how frail is their hope. 
Do they lean on confession? Who 

knows he's confessed? 
Down beneath all his probing a dark 

sin may rest. 
And how shall man walk through life's 

whirlwind imthrilled, 
And carry a brimming cup not to be 

spilled? 

O monks, vain is your faith. 
The dear Mother of God cannot help 

you, for light 
Cannot flow from her garments to 

pierce through your night. 
Till light falls on your midnight path 

how can you know 
The help you can reach for, the way 

you must go? 

But my spirit is stirred 
By a new hope, like sunlight seen soft 

through the mist ; 
Does it come from the land which 

God's noonlight has kissed? 
There has flashed o'er my heart like a 

dream-recalled word — 
*' I have loved with eternal love." Soul, 

hast thou heard ? 



46 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

You are dizzy, my Soul, 

With the new Hght poured on you ; with 
joy in the song 

That is sweeping in music my heart- 
strings along. 

Oh, I have been blind. He has loved? 
Ay, He died. 

Can any love more than the great Cru- 
cified? 

O my brothers, at last 
The light has flashed on us. How 

blind we have been. 
Let us shake off' forever the black hood 

of sin. 
Was there fog on our reason that we 

could not know 
If the Mother were holy the Son made 

her so ? 

Did He need her strong 
prayers 
To be pitiful unto the souls He had 

loved 
With such marvellous love as His dymg 

had proved? 
Did the old belief blind me that I could 
not see 



VAGABOND RHYMES. ^i 

What the new light shows clearly — 
Christ's great love for me ? 

Oh, just for one hour ! 
For one fresh leap of strength through 

my frame as of old, 
That I might the new revelation unfold 
To the monks who have walked through 

the darkness with me. 
That the light Jesus wraps me in, they, 

too, might see. 

Oh, to cry to all men 
That the Christ is the Saviour, the great 

shining Light, 
Ay, the Love who has died for us ; the 

Infinite 
Who is mighty to save, and the Loving 

One, full 
Of strong yearning o'er men, and love 

ineffable. 

But already my lips 
Have grown stiff with the touch of his 

messenger, death ; 
And the mist o'er my eyes gathers damp 

from his breath. 
But He whose eternal love passes man's 

thought. 



48 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Will save in His own way the souls 
His blood bought. 



Strange, wonderful light ! 
Growing brighter as earth grows more 

misty and far. 
Our light is the love of Jesus, the 

Eastern Star. 
Ah, death wraps 'round me close, but 

its shadows have flown. 
O Christ, O Thou Crucified, take home 

Thine own. 



''Let there be light" — the deep, full 

melody 
Went thrilling through all space and 

time and night. 
Then first awakened earthly harmony. 
The universe responded ; there was 

light. 
And ever since, through space that felt 

and wondered, 
Have music's ever-widening circles run ; 
And the struck harp string quiveringly 

has pondered 
How such delight from such a pain was 

won. 



VAGABOA^n /RHYMES. 49 

Still the vibration of those mighty 
words 

Has trembled through the ages tune- 
fully. 

Still has its music touched a myriad 
chords 

And sent the sound along tumultuously. 
So sweet and powerful went the 

found along, 
Its echo lingers yet in human sonsr. 



NOVEMBER. 

A vague and restless 

Comes pulsing like a wave 

At Indian Summer's burning — 
The bloom on summer's efrave. 

The rustle of the dead leaves 
Is like a ghostly moan ; 

The still, sad air its spell weaves 
To make one feel alone. 

O heart, be still thy throbbing ; 

What stirs in thee such pain? 
That gust was like the sobbing 

Of souls that love in vain. 



50 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

The slumbering air listens 
In indolent suspense ; 

The dreaming sunlight glistens ; 
The waiting is intense. 

And slowly through the silence 
The ghostly rustle creeps ; 

As ocean, 'mid its islands, 

Their waiting shores upleaps. 

This is no springtime gladness ; 

No summer's dream of calm ; 
The year is in its sadness. 

And this its funeral psalm. 

O woman, in thy sorrow, 
'Tis thine to understand. 

Earth holds for thee no morrow ; 
Life's key resists thy hand. 

The dream of love is over ; 

The glimpse of rapture fled ; 
And Hope, like thy lost lover, 

Lies in thy bosom, dead. 

But oh, the hopeless sorrow ! 

And oh, the voiceless pain ! 
The loathing of the morrow 

That brings thy woe again. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 51 

Oh, shall it have no ending? 

How bitter is that cry — 
This pain my heart is rending ; 

Would God that I might die. 

Sad heart, forget thy crying. 

The envied dying year 
Is radiant even in dying. 

Hold'st thou not glory dear? 

Thy tears should be but lenses 
Through which release is seen. 

Qiiicken thy languid senses 
To meet death like a queen. 

Oh, hush thy frenzied sobbing, 
That loving voice to hear : — 

Tired heart, too wildly throbbing, 
Sleep with the dying year. 



DELIGHT. 

Do you know why today 

With such sweetness is full, 

Why the birds sing alway. 
With never a lull? 

I know, oh, I know it, 
Sweet birth of delight ; 



52 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Dear nature doth show it 
In fulness of light. 

My cup runneth over; 

My lips brim with song ; 
My love and my lover 

Have made my heart strong. 
To-day by the river 

That mirrors the heaven, 
My love — bravest giver — 

His troth-plight has given. 

Oh, still w^as the river, 

And stiller the noon. 
Such stillness will ever 

My quick heart attune. 
My heart beat so thickly 

I heard its sweet pain — 
Then words whispered quickly, 

And whispered again : 

^' I love thee ! I love thee I" 
O musical tune. 

With soft skies above me 
And days warm with June, 

With heart brimming over 
With sweetness and bliss. 

With love and my lover- 
Is life more than this? 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 53 



Jesus, be my Life, my Lover ; 

Be my inmost soul. 
With Thyself my poor self cover, 

Make my spirit whole. 

Be my heart, my kingly Lover, 

So that when I bend 
To my heart, I shall discover 

'Tis my heavenly Friend. 



MY LOVE. 

Was ever maiden so beguiled 

Into a net of her own weaving? 
How could I know love was so wild. 



I never cared a thought for him ; 

We talked in merest play and jesting ; 
And now today my eyes are dim ; 

My storm-tossed heart can know no 
resting. 

I knew his heart was never mine. 

Heedless of love in song and story, 
I laughing said: " Lo, my heart's 
shrine 

Its hero lacks ; its crowning glory. 



54 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Without him, what are heavenliest 
gleams ? " 
And so I crowned him king, in play- 
ing; 
He waved his sceptre o'er my dreams, 
He went where'er my thoughts went 
straying. 

And day and night, in childish glee, 
My thoughts and fancies 'round him 
winding — 
Fate held my eyes ; I could not see 
My chains of mist would soon be 
binding. 



For he about whose shadow-self 
My heart its pliant fibres twisted, 

Like giant grown from careless elf, 
Sprang up and would not be resisted. 



Too blissful dream ! too rude the thrill 
That shook my heart to dazed awak- 
ing. 
My love was real ; it rules me still. 
O God ! my woman's heart is break- 
ing. 



DOUGLAS. 

My heart sighs for love of thee, 

Douglas. 
Thou who art so lost to me, 

Douglas. 
Low the blood-red sun goes down, 
Leaving on my page its frown, 
Thee to gild with morning's crown, 

Douglas. 

Wide the sea between us flows, 

Douglas. 
In and out the slow tide goes, 

Douglas. 
It is ebb tide on my shore, 
But on thine forevermore 
Flood tide thunders up the shore, 

Douglas. 

I am glad thy path is bright, 

Douglas. 
I could bear my own in night, 

Douglas, 
If, though for a little space, 
Heaven should grant me sweetest grace- 
Just to look upon thy face, 

Douoflas. 



56 VAGABOND JUIYMES. 

Is thy heart in love again, 

Doughis ? 
Does another feel that pain, 

Douglas, 
Dear, delicious, longing pain — 
Silly tears, ye fall like rain — 
Of loving one who loves again, 

Douglas ? 



Do thy fingers in her curls, 

Douglas, 
Wind themselves like threads of pearls, 

Douglas? 
Once my hair was softly told : 
"Curls, ye are my sunlight's gold." 
Now their light is dead and cold, 

Douglas. 



I can love no other one, 

Douglas. 
Aly earth owns no other sun, 

Douglas. 
Other lovers fortune gave ; 
Their love sank in thy love's wave. 
None my heart has room for, save 

DoujJ^las. 



AT THE JUDGMENT. 

Stand up at the bar of judgment, O 

saint, in your blood-bought cahii. 
For me is the stern "Depart from me ;" 

for you the victor's pahn. 
But answer, in the Presence where the 

purest hold their breath. 
Whose tempter hand first pointed me 

the path that leads to death ? 

Who came in my .boyish innocence, 

wdien holy thoughts were mine. 
And under the plea of friendship held 

out the red, red wine? 
You knew the demon in its dregs, and 

that its fatal clasp 
Once fastened on my pliant heart would 

never loose its grasp. 

O ye who have felt its burning, is there 

greater hell than this — 
To feel its madness in your veins, and 

lack the wine-cup's kiss? 
O prince of demons, who could hold 

the cup to beardless lips ; 
O maddest, weakest of mankind, who 



of its nisrhtshade si 



'tj 



sips. 



58 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

And when after days of struggle I had 

ahnost burst its chain, 
With your fatal gift of eloquence you 

wove the spell again. 
But you repent, you say ; Ah, me ! your 

pardon that insures, 
But I am curst while life, — nay, while^ 

eternity endures. 

God ! my awful punishment too heavy 

is to bear. 
Give me one little moment back that 

Thou mayst hear my prayer. 
" Ye would not come ;" O God, I know 

— the words ring in my heart ; 

1 have no fellowship with Thee ; hast 

Thou not said " Depart?" 

I must go on to my darkness, and you 
to Heaven's own light ; 

Where the shadow of His presence 
falls there shall be no more night. 

Darkly it comes to meet me, the doom 
I richly merit ; 

The golden New Jerusalem no drunk- 
ard can inherit. 

O demons, come ye crowding up to 
work on me your will? 



VAGABOA'D RHYMES. 59 

<' He that is filthy" — hear them hiss — 

" let him be filthy still." 
O rocks and mountains, fall on me and 

hide me from the light. 
O gaping, hungry hell, I come into thy 

endless night. 



THE QUESTIONER OF THE 
SPHINX. 

woman Sphinx, so grim and great, 
'Mid thy drifting desert sands. 

Pity a restless woman's state, 
And stretch out helping hands. 

1 listen at thy great, dumb lips 

Till the mystic whisper come. 
As mothers wait for the tardy ships 
That bring their sailor home. 

My heart pants, O oracle. 

So passionless, cold, and wise. 

The pain of which the earth is full 
Has never dimmed thine eyes. 

And yet thou knowest ; and I come, 
For my hot heart will not rest. 



60 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

O proud lips, be no longer dumb, 
Thy secret is unguessed. 

By the dear secret that I seek 
No continent's heart is stirred ; 

No sibyl waits to hear thee speak ; 
And yet I must be heard. 

Now whisper, clearly and full, 

And thy woman's nature prove ; — 

Say, does he love me, Oracle, 
Or will he ever love? 

Oh, answer, dread one, I pray. 

With thee I have dropped my pride. 
Ah, no sound came ; I went away, 

My heart unsatisfied. 



THE ROBIN'S WOOING. 

In the winsome days of springtime 
When the trees were white with 
bloom. 
And the song-birds, wandering north- 
ward. 
Sang of sweet spring flower's per- 
fume, 
Came a robin to my window 

Seeking in my fruit trees room — 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 01 

Room to build his cuniiins" cottasfe ; 

Such a cosy Httle nest, 
Where could nestle all his birdlings, 

And the father's heart could rest, 
Coming home with sweet contentment 

To the dear ones he loved best. 

It may be he liked the flowers 

In my little garden there. 
Where his namesake, bright wake-robin. 

Charmed him with her petals fair; 
And the trailing sweet arbutus 

Cast her fragrance on the air, 
And the delicate spring-beauties 

Blushed at blooming everywhere. 

Or perhaps the fruit tree's blooming 

Filled him with a sweet surprise. 
And recalled a robin's memories 

Of a southern paradise. 
Where, for houris, fairer songbirds 

Lit the dark with starry eyes. 
And eclipsed the minstrel's music, 

Singing to the evening skies. 

Maybe no such wayward fancies 
Touched the busy robin's thought ; 

And perhaps nor flowers nor blossoms 
Had the birdie's notice causfht. 



62 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

But perhaps the tall tree's curving, 
And the leaning of the shade, 

Or the sense of human nearness — 
Not too close to make afraid, — 

Caught the wavering robin foncy 
And his bird decision made. 

With a tw^itter at my window. 
For a birdie's sweet farewell, 

Robin quivered on the branches 
Till a shower of petals fell — 

The soft snowfall of the summer — 
And went — whither? Who can tell? 

My wake-robin bloomed and faded, 
Drooped its petals, snowy white. 

Till they turned to red and purplj 
In the teardrops of the night. 

As the raindrops turn to rainbows 
The pale pencils of the light. 

But the day that showed my blossom 
Drenched and broken on the ground ^ 

Brought me back my other robin 
And the sweetheart he had found. 

Then, oh, such a joyous trilling. 

Such a melody of mirth, 
As perhaps the birds of Eden 

Caroled o'er the new-born earth,, 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 63 

When the angels sang its beauty, 
And the herald stars its birtli. 

And I listened, idly trying 

To pretend I understood 
All the mystic words of music 

Of those warblers from the wood, 
All the melody of language 

Of those wanderers from the wood. 

And I thought I heard him telling 
How the thought of her had stirred 

Longing for a lovely home nest 
Fit for such a dainty bird. 

While her little trills of music 
Answered every loving word. 

But the daintiness of wooing 

Her who was already won, 
All the lovely sweet bird language 

Warbled gaily in the sun, 
Chanted softly at the sunset, 

Till the building was all done — 

Is beyond my human telling. 

Fancy cannot catch the glee 
Of those warblings from the etlier. 

Wafting down so merrily ; 
Nor translate to human language 

Sonof-scenes of a life so free. 



64 VAGABOND nilYMES. 

Maybe when the birds of Eden 
Caroled in the leafy grove, 

Adam caught the birdiike meaning, 
Understood the words of love ; 

Traced the windings of the network 
That the wandering fancy wove. 

Ah, but now we can but measure 
By our hearts the birdie's song; 

Find the echo of our own love 
In its chant so sweet and strong ; 

While our heart-strings thrill respon- 
sive 
To the yearning of the song. 

So, although the words are foreign 

And the melody unknown, 
Yet the love in robin's bosom 

Finds an answer in our own ; 
And his sweet resistless wooing 

Charnieth not his mate alone. 

And if any earthly maiden 
Could be wooed so daintily, 

If a heart with love's pain laden 
Could pour forth its love so free — 

She could ne'er withstand its pleading, 
If it pled so wistfully. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. Co 



Mv thoughts are where myself would 
be. 
Were self as thought, and both full- 
plumed for flying, 
Both would be with you in reality, 
And self and thought forget their 
woful sighing. 
So swift I'd fly, so joyously, so lightly. 
The star that shines above your window 

nightly 
Should shine this night above my head 

also. 
And all my thoughts of you your 
thoughts should know. 
Do you wish, dearest, that my wish 

were true. 
That through the twilight I could fly 
to you ? 



THE BRIDAL. 

I sought my love with a step as light. 

As free from sorrow. 
As morn just risen from the breast of 
night 

Could wish to borrow. 



^G VAGABOND RHYMES. 

For my love would rest 

On her husband's breast 

To-morrow. 

The door was shut, but the blinds were 
wide, 
When, blithe and smiling, 
I asked them how was my bonnie bride 
The morn beguiling; 
And how away 
The slow hours' stay 
Was whiling. 

I thought no harm though the lips that 
spoke 
Were white, unsteady ; 
And the voice that answered almost 
broke : 
*' Your bride is ready. 
For to-morrow's vow, 
Her deep love now 
Is steady." 

They led me then to her chamber bright, 

Where lay, sun-flooded, 
A slender shape, draped all in white. 

The dead eyes hooded. 
My own love, my pride, 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 67 

Death claimed as his bride. 
The fiend-blooded ! 

So beautlfid ! And so far from me ! 

Lie down, wild sorrow. 
Death claims her beauty, she his bride 
must be, 
His horrors borrow. 

And the worms shall rest 
On her snow-white breast 
To-morrow. 

OCTOBER. 

O rare October, in thy golden mood 
Thou crownest the year with royal, 
burning glory ; 
With gold and crimson set'st on fire the 
wood ; 
And skies are won to tell the lovely 
story. 

Soft as a baby's breath, the fragrant air 
Beguiles the bright leaves to their 
own undoing ; 
Like flecks of sunshine they fall every- 
where ; 
Not lost to yield to such a gentle 
wooing. 



68 VAGABOND BHYMES. 

Now you can bear, far otT, the dreamy 
chant 
Of some late bird, warmed into 
ecstasy ; 
Then feel the warm sun on your cheek, 
and pant 
To soar and sing Hke him ; Hke him 
be free. 

The lingering peaches their soft cheeks 
are turning 
To the warm kisses of the loving sun. 
Hot glow^s the grape, with wine of fire 
burning. 
Wooing October the year's sweets 
has won. 

The year has rounded to its full com- 
pleteness ; 
The hush of rest has fallen every- 
where ; 
The winds are dreaming, heavy with 
much sweetness ; 
The glory and the richness flood the 
air. 

O ripe October, when thy golden haze 
Lies over hill and river like a dream. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 69 

Would heaven would make immortal 
thy sweet days 
In all the magic of their mellow 
gleam. 

O rare October, wine of all the year, 
I quati' thy brimming sweetness 
eagerly. 
Sweet Indian Summer, idly dallying 
here. 
Oh, when thou diest, thou diest so 
gloriously. 



THE RED ROSE. 

The flower of love in her garden, 
I am red to my deep heart's core. 

I bend when the breeze sweeps o'er me. 
And look through the open door. 

Down the hall she comes in her beauty. 
As fair as the new-born day ; 

A rose of love in her bosom, 

That had not bloomed yesterday. 

There's a quick step on the pathway, 
And my tallest petal stirs ; 



70 VAGABOArn RHYMES. 

He stands in the open doorway 
And his head bends over hers. 

O human hands close clasping, 

O human lips that meet, 
What is this wondrous feeling 

That you seem to find so sweet? 

Now over the waiting threshold 
They pass from my eager sight. 

And into the gathering shadows 
They carry the sweet love-light. 

Oh, brave is life in the garden, 
And free is the light wind's kiss ; 

By my fragrance but I love it ! 

Yet — perhaps there's greater bliss. 



MY DEAD HOPE. 

Sweet hope, farewell. 
Once, cherished in my bosom, 

I held thee dearer than all earthly 
things ; 
Now thou art dead as any withered 
blossom 
The cold wind to earth's sorrowing 
bosom flings. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 71 

Hope, art thou dead? 
No more my sweet consoler? 

Thou sweetest lover Heaven ever 
gave, 
Thou liest on my empty bosom, colder 
Than the first frost upon a new-made 
grave. 

Dear hope, farewell. 
What shall I do without thee? 

I wish my weary life were wrecked 

with thee. 
Thou liest dead, with all my joys about 

thee. 
And what have light and life to do with 

me? 

Oh hope, farewell. 
The whole earth is unreal. 

Only the cold words live that stopped 
thy breath, 
The strong, brave soul longs for its 
bright ideal ; 
My heart has only strength to long 
for death. 

So hope, farewell. 
Without thee 'tis not living. 



72 VAGABOND I^HYMES. 

'Twas for thy sake I was in love with 

life. 
Heaven sent thee death ; be generous, 

Heaven, in giving, 
And in hope's grave for me shall end 

earth's strife. 



Sweet hope, farewell. 
Not Heaven's self were Heaven 

And thou away. O Heaven, hear 
my prayer : 
Grant, if to me thine entrance key is 
given, 
That I may find my sweet hope wait- 
ing there. 



CONFIDENCE. 

My Maybird nestled close unto my heart 

And sang to me a happy, happy song ; 

And told me how that joy had grown a 

part 
Of her own self, and would be, all life 

long. 
And whispered wonders of a love most 

rare, 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 73 

While I could watch the rainbow in 

her eyes ; 
And smiled as if she saw, in promise 

fair, 
The outlook of a dawning paradise. 
O wondrous love, how strong thy 

power must be 
To win this many-fibred heart to 
thee. 



SEPARATION. 

Away from thee ! And I must still live 
on. 

Live on, away from thee. 
Till weary time itself at last be gone, 

And then — eternity. 

Eternity of woe and loneliness 

In every lagging hour ; 
And memory's sharp spur to love's 
distress. 

That goads with growing power. 

I thought I held th}' image in m}- heart. 
Forever mine to be. 



74 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

But now I know, since we have lived 
apart, 
Thy image is not thee. 

I cry to Heaven ; but there comesbetween 

Me and the Hstening skies, 
Thy face ; and all the stars that down- 
ward lean 

Are but thy loving eyes. 

Soft through the branches comes thy 
voice to me ; 
And then I start awake, 
And know the silence that must ever be 
■ Thy voice will never break. 

Till youth is gone ; and then till old age 
comes ; 

Still thou wilt not be here. 
A hundred altars in a hundred homes. 

But none that holds me dear. 

However long the wheel of time shall 
turn 
Thou wilt not be more near. 
The longing in my bosom still must 
learn 
The solace of a tear. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 7o 

To iKilf forget in dreams, then wake 
again 
Still to that agony; 
To live long years clasped close by that 
fierce pain ; — 
Must that be life to me? 

Could I forget — life were a waste of 
sand. 
Yet what does memory give ? 
Thy face, thy longed-for kiss, thy 
clasping hand. 
O God ! and still I live. 

Upon my heart the slow years shall 
distil 

Their lingering drops of pain, 
And all the chalice of my life shall lill 

With slowly blighting rain. 

The shadow falls ; and yet 'tis thy dear 
shade 

That comes so dark and swift. 
Life stretches on ; shall I be then afraid ? 

Or take pain as thy gift. 

And through the darkness which no 
light can part. 
Clasping thy memory, 



76 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

The sickening, weary tugging at the 
heart 
Shall all be borne for thee. 

Thou art not helped although I should 
endure ; 
Thou wilt not know ; yet I, 
Once having known a life so good and 
pure, 
Should nobler be thereby ; 

Should show my heart that I would 
rather far 
Suffer this eating pain, 
Than that my life be freed from this 
deep scar. 
And thou come not again. 



THE SHAPE OF A KISS. 

Shape belongs to things material, 
How shall I give to this ethereal, 
Airy, transient thing of bliss 
Such a property as this? 
Now it melts upon the mouth 
Like a zephyr of the south. 
Shapeless, formless, word-defying, 
Scarcely born before 't is dying. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 77 

In a breath dissolved and fled, 

Like dream-music quickly sped, 

In the longing heart begotten. 

Scarce remembered, ne'er forgotten, 

Nothing kin to square, triangle, 

Ellipse, or the shapes that dangle 

Prom the rounding chalk and string, — 

Why this is a spirit thing ! 

Have you never felt it thrill 

All your pulses, like the trill 

Of a w^ild bird's caroling 

Long before you knew 'tw^as spring? 

Have you never felt it rush 

Prom the bounding heart and push 

All your poised control aside 

Till the heart was satisfied. 

That yet clamored still for more. 

Till for very shame forbore? 

Have you felt it fall as light 

On your cheek as shadow night, 

Gone before your lashes lift, 

Shy as swallow, and as swift? 

Pine, impalpable as mist 

Which the Autumn sun has kissed ; 

Like an elfin touch that stirs 

Not the fairy gossamers ; 

Like the thistle-blooms that wheel 

In a wind too fine to feel ; 



78 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Like a filmy cloud's eclipse 
Of the sunny heaven's lips ; 
Like an angel's folded wing 
'Round his quivering harp-string ; 
Like a baby's coaxing prayers 
That beguile you unawares ; 
Like a thought from heart to heart 
Of the spirit would a part. — 
Lover, looking in her eyes 
Where a mimic heaven lies, 
Stay your heart's delirious thrill, 
Tell us listeners, if you will. 
If there any likeness is 
To this elfin of a kiss? 
Ah, your inspiration's gone. 
With the waiting kiss 'tis flown ; 
Foolish man, recall your bliss. 
There is nothing like a kiss. 



FALSE. 

I must give up my lover ; 

I must forget his smile 
Now he is pledged to another. 

Mine such a little while. 

Never mine, you will tell me, 
If he so false can prove. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 79 



Ah, but my heart was trustful, 
Nothing its trust could move. 

Now I must not remember 

His words, his look, his tone. 

The touch of his hand on my hand- 
Ah, then he was my own. 

Am I a woman truly? 

They used to call me proud. 
Can I not bear what a woman must, 

And never cry aloud? 

It was his deed to leave me. 

He cares not for me ; 
Heart of a woman, rally ; 

Scorn him as he scorns thee. 

Oh, how I long to see him. 
Long for his old fond glance ; 

How the close clasp of his fingers 
Would make my fond heart dance. 

Was that he passed the window ? 

O foolish heart, give place, 
'Tis another woman's lover. 

Who wears thy lover's face. 

His heart is all gone from thee ; 
Is not the heart the man? 



80 VAGABO.Vn RHYMES. 

Forget not you are a woman. — 
Reason back love who can. 

My heart's passed from my keeping ; 

And what is done, is done ; 
'Tis false to me in my trouble, 

'Tis doubly true to one. 

I think pride left my bosom 
When love had entered in. 

Sweet love, I banish thee my heart, 
Put pride where thou hast been. 

And, mocking shadow lover, 

Thee I forbid my heart. 
Thou hast brought sorrow on me, 

'Tis more than time to part. 

Shadow and substance leave me ; 
What has earth left for me ? 

heaven ! a tide of memories 
Forever mocking me. 

And for one look of yielding, 
One loving glance — but one — 

1 were bankrupt in woman's pride.— 

O heart, we are undone. 



l^A GAB OND RH YME S. 

Who shall forbid me 

The memory of that hour? 
Destiny outdid me, 

But memory is power. 
Evermore through the night 

Glow thy sweet eyes ; 
Still does the morning light 

Bring low replies. 
Ever shall dreams be bright 

Till memory dies. 



PRO AND CON. 

All unawares my heart 
Has slipped my hold. 

Reason would play her part, 
But reason's cold. 

What shall I do, alack ! 

With my wild rover? 
Tears will not win her back 
To her safe cover. 

O thou wilt find, my heart. 

Nothing but pain. 
Thou shalt have all the smart, 

Naught of the gain. 



82 VAGABOND /RHYMES. 

Wayward and restless still, 

Dost thou not feel 
How weak is human will 

'Gainst love's appeal? 

What dost thou hope for, fool ? 

Love's happiness? 
When thou hast been to school 

To sharp distress 

Thou wilt lament the years 
When thou wert wise ; 

Wlien thou wert strange to tears 
And laughed at sighs. 

Regrets shall shake thy deep; 

Tumults appal ; 
Love, now so sweet, shall steep 

His sweets in gall. 

Do thou of love beware, 

Mad heart of mine. 
Let others know its snare, 

Make prudence thine. 

What dost thou say, my heart? 

Make answer, come. 
Hast weakness of thy part 

Smitten thee dumb? 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 83 



THE HEART ANSWERS. 

Farewell the life I led 

When I was free, 
Ere all my veins had bled, 

Sweet love, for thee. 

Sweet were the careless rhymes 
Of childhood's heart ; 

Sweeter, a thousand times, 
Love's keenest smart. 

Dear were the happy days 

Of liberty; 
Dearer to sing the praise. 

Dear love, of thee. 

Shall I have nothing now 

But love's unrest? 
Still on my knees I vow 

Sweet love is best. 

Love's "no" is pain, you say. 

I know it well. 
Love's pain has a way 

Too sweet to tell. 

Shadow and sorrow flit 
'Round love's dear head ; 



84 rAGABO.VD /RHYMES. 

V/hat would life say to it 
If love were dead? 

Bring all the clouds that lower 
O'er love's dread birth ; 

Bring all the storms that dower 
Its lot on earth. — 

Say you that love's dread path 

Is tempest riven? 
That fate in maddest wrath 

Makes men love-driven? 

Love wounds ; I know it well ; 

Yet 'tis God-given. 
Loveless fiends know but hell ; 

'Tis love makes Heaven. 



STARLIGHT. 

Pure beam of a heaven-born planet, 
Come from a world so far 

That a thought can scarcely span it — 
The space to that distant star — 

As thou piercest so swift and sweetly 
The darkness of the night, 



VAGABOND RHYMES, 85 

And flingest down so fleetly 

The burden of thy light, 
Say, dost thou catch the sadness 

Of tearful human eyes, 
Or feel their joyful gladness, 

Uplifted to the skies? 
Do the tiny, slender star-beams 

Bear back to thy bright home 
Some story of the far gleams 

Of the world to which they come? 



THOUGHTS OF GOD.* 

How shall I think of God, 

The Eternal, Infinite? 
Can earth to Heaven nod 
And bid it come to sight? 
O mighty Shadow floating o'er my life, 
Calm for Thy great reflex the waves of 
strife. 

I can but think of Him. 

Vaguely my heart is stirred ; 
As in the forest dim 

The music of a bird 
Comes nestling down into your heart of 
hearts 



86 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

From out the silence, and the quick love 
starts. 

So sometimes, like a voice 

Out of the sunbeam's heat. 
Making the heart rejoice 
And the quick pulses beat, 
Comes some sw^eet influence, and I am 

stirred 
As if some heavenly voice indeed I 
heard. 

Sometimes I long to breathe 

His breath in the sweet air ; 
I go where soft winds wreathe, 
And feel He just was there, 
But passed, and left a sunbeam in his 

track. 
And subtle sweetness as His breath 
comes back. 

When the deep organ rolls. 

And voices chant the hymn. 
When passion fills all souls. 
And eyes with tears are dim. 
One needs must be held captive and 

rejoice. 
But Oh, 'tis but the echo of His voice. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 87 

Say you He is the Sun 

That shineth on our hearts, 
That He and love are one, 

From peace He never parts — 
It is too vague ; I want a Hving heart 
To beat 'gainst mine; nor know the 
beats apart. 

How shall I think of Him? 

What image does He wear? 
We are His image dim. 
But none His glory bear. 
I picture forth His image and His 

state. 
But wake to find 'tis but a man made 
great. 

It is not great enough. 

God, show Thyself to me. 
No tempests were too rough 
If they but showed me Thee. 
I want Thy touch ; Thy kiss upon my 

soul. 
Thy heart so close my passion could 
control. 

Sometimes I seem to be 
In His own arms held fast. 



88 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

O dream too shadowy, 

Thy glorious vision passed. 

The dream of water held to thirsty 
lips : 

The cup dashed down ere one its fresh- 
ness sips. (\ 



Will the day ever come 

When I shall know Thee, Lord, 
As children know their home. 
As sons their father's w^ord ? 
For nothing will content, till, as Thou 

art, 
I know Thy image and Thy love by 
heart. 



When my hope is fulfilled. 
My longing love at rest. 
My ceaseless yearnings stilled 
In peace upon Thy breast, 
When I wake with Thy likeness, by 

Thy side, 
O mighty God, I shall be satisfiied. 



* Once published in Tke Yoiaig CJitirch- 
man under a difterent title. 



AFTER LONG YEARS. 

Soft lie the dark shadows upon the 
green hills 
Way over beyond the river. 
And oh, but contentment my bosom 
fills 
Now I have come back forever. 

my fair river, my beautiful river. 
Now that I stand on your shore. 

My w^oes to your waves the dark shad- 
ows deliver. 
Sweet river, I'll wander no more. 

So sweetly the sound of your musical 
flowing 
Stole over the distance to me, 

1 longed for the sight of your green 

w^illows growing 
Down towards your mirroring sea. 
O my fair river, my beautiful river. 
Watching your curve as of yore. 
Your waves murmur peace as they flow 
down forever. 
Dear river, I'll wander no more. 



90 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

How throng the swift memories, borne 
on your bosom, 
Darkhng and silvery come. 
Silence, my heart, let forgetfulness 
blossom. 
Peace, weary heart, you're at home. 
O my dear river, my beautiful river, 

Love was the message you bore ; 
Now bring me rest, O most generous 
giver. 
My river, I'll wander no more. 



A GIRL'S PRAYER. 

O Death, come woo me. 
Life is too long, 
Love a strange song ; 

Earth doth undo me. 

O world of dreaming, 
When one awakes 
All thy spell breaks ; 

Joy is but seeming. 

Love seemed unending ; 

But it is dead. 

Come in its stead, 
C-adness befriending. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 91 

Thy black wine quaffing, 
Peace would be mine ; 
Peace — more divine 

Than all earth's laughing. 



Fold thy strong pinions ; 
Take to thy breast 
Her who would rest 

In thy dominions. 



Cold is thy breath, king. 

But it is sweet ; 

Peace is complete ; 
Art thou the death-king.?* 



Dimmer my sight grows, 
And my ears ring ; 
How the stars sing. 

How pale the light grows. 



The wind is steady. 

Death, what is this.? 

Is it thy kiss? 
Well, I am ready. 



ROWING. 

Come, row me up the river, 

The evening is so fair; 
And w^iere the willows shiver . 
And the soft shadows quiver. 

While peace is in the air, 
I'll lull me into sweetest calm ; 
Beauty for care ; for sorrow, balm. 

How restful is this feeling ; 

The soothing has begun ; 
Into the quiet stealing ; 
The river has its healing 

For every troubled one. 
Stoop faster to the dripping oars. 
Beyond the bend are lovelier shores. 

How soft the western heaven ; 

The sunset's flush is dead. 
But softer hues are given. 
The dove-like hues of even, 

In brighter colors' stead. 
But oh, how fast the memories throng 
Upon me, as we glide along. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 93 

Here Is the tree that ever 

A noble landmark stood, 
AVine-wreathed, beside the river, 
•Suggesting still forever 

That same-shaped sacred wood. 
The great green cross outspreads Its 

arms 
In blessing over quiet farms. 

Their Is no moon In heaven; 

Only the quiet stars 
Their calmer light have given 
To light this shadowy even 

And hide the daylight scars. 
And floating down from yonder hill. 
The sad cry of the w^hlp-poor-wlll. 

And now our way is wending 
W^here two great sweeping folds 

Encircle In their bending 

A silver lake, deep blending 
The shadows that i't holds. 

Draw in the oars and float at rest 

Upon the tranquil w^ater's breast. 

'Clear dark, so fit for dreaming, 

And peacefulest hill-slope. 
And water faintly gleaming — 



94 VAGABOAD RHYMES, 

Your comfort is but seeming 
For I am done with hope. 
The river flows on peacefully, 
But from myself I cannot flee. 

When dear hope has departed, 

And dearer love is dead. 
Let not the empty-hearted 
Think that where love has parted 

He shall be comforted. 
Give me the oars ; sad memory, 
I must not dally here with thee. 



THE GREAT IDEAL. 

Unless the heart be lifted up 
Above all earthly things, 

However full its earthly cup 
It little blessing brings. 

Set free thy heart from eating cares. 

What does it all avail? 
Thy peace is crumbling unawares i 

Thy happiness will fail. 

It is too great a price to pay, 
Perpetual unrest, 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 95 

For that which hardly lives a clay, 
And leaves thee still distrest. 

Lift up thy thoughts to things that live, 

The sky is overhead, 
And ask of Heaven to forgive 

A heart disquieted. 

Last night I wandered toward the west, 

Restless and full of care. 
Through all the noisy town's unrest. 

Breathing its smoky air. 

Until at last I raised my eyes ; 

The crescent moon's soft light 
Shone calmly in the peaceful skies 

Above the grey twilight. 

My heart was calmed. I knew above 
The noise and stir and fret, 

In His own calm, the God of Love 
Was ruling o'er us yet. 

His peace is on us when on Him 
Our wandering thoughts are set ; 

His light shines on our eyelids dim. 
But oh, our hearts forget. 



96 VAGABO.yn RHYMES. 

Still through the twilight mists are seen 

The shadows of the real ; 
Above, transparent and serene, 

The beautiful ideal. 

Still chants the earth her troubled 
hymn ; 

And still, in shining calm, 
Before her eyes, with weeping dim, 

The wonderful I Am. 



SONG. 

Oh, love, like a wheel, goes rushing 

the rounding earth over, 
And all are rolled down who are found 

in the path of the rover. 
And heaven and earth seem awhirl in 

the eyes of the lover. 

Oh, love, like a light, comes blinding 

the eyes that are mortal. 
Like a sheeted white light flashing out 

from the heavens' own portal. 
When it dies in the night does not even 

eternal seem mortal.^ 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 97 

Oh, love, like a song, comes witching 
men's hearts with its ringing. 

And nothing seems joy but its breath of 
delirious singing. 

And sadder than death is the sigh that 
its echo is flinging. 



Oh, love, like a breath, comes kissing 
soft cheeks with its sighing. 

Ay, fragrant and sweet as the wind over 
wild roses flying ; 

Like a ship in the tropics becalmed 
seems the soul at its dying. 



Oh, love, like a flame, comes warming 
all hearts with its glowing. 

And hearts are ablaze in its warmth as 
they follow its blowing, 

But colder than death are the ashes 
burnt out at its going. 



Oh, sweet is love in its undreamed, 

glorious morning. 
But death seems slow to the heart that 

feels its scorning. 



SPRING AGAIN. 

Warm and laughing, a perfect day : 
Golden sun in a sky of blue ; 

Grass a-blowing the quick wind's way 
Shows the violets purpling through. 

Birds a-thrill with the joy of life, 
Swelling each little eager throat ; 

Singing — half for the little wife. 

Most for the joy of the bursting note. 

Air as fragrant as seraph's lips, 

Delicate, fresh as a blossom weaves. 

Sunlight suftering slight eclipse 
By the shadows from baby leaves. 

Cat-bird, cat-bird, rolic once more ; 

Spring and youth in your throat run 
riot. 
Ah, how the liquid notes outpour ; 

Life in your veins scorns to be quiet. 

Robin, robin, with hopping leaps, 

•Puft' out your breast in saucy power — 

Strange that the bird most joyous, keeps 

A sad little song for the sunset hour. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 99 

So, is it love in the breast that glows, — 
Or does the passionate heart of youth 

Come again when the south wind 
blows? 
Is winter delusion, spring the truth? 

Who cares? Whistle, red-bird, again. 

''It's easier," the wee wren sings. 
Even the sad earth has no pain 

For the bird, or the heart, with 
wings. 

Creation's rapture's new each year ; 

God's own enthusiastic mood 
Comes down on us when skies grow 
clear. 

And we, too, echo, It is good. 

The herald morning stars still sing ; 

Our rose, the fair, faint dawn, is 
given : 
And to old Earth the new springs bring 

The deathless youth of older heaven. 



Thou hast covered the dawn with thy 

skirts, O sorrow ; 
The print of thy footsteps lies deep in 

the sides of the hills; 



100 VAGABOiVD /RHYMES. 

The earth knows thy shadow, thou 

shut'st it out from the sun. 
Under thy heavy hand all the tints of 

the morning are faded. 
The heart croucheth down ; it hideth 

itself in the desert ; 
It sayeth, Ah, safety is here ; I shall 

never be found of affliction. 
Thou trackest thy prey ; thou comest on 

him in the sunlight ; 
Thy victim is- stricken; his lips are 

bowed down to the dust ; 
Night covers his head, and grief is the 

home of his spirit ; 
The cry of his soul goeth forth in the 

infinite stillness. 
Then is the heart sick for God ; it crieth 

upon Him : 
Help Thou, for there is none other ; 

help Thou, O Jehovah^; v^ 
For Thy wings are swifter than sor- 
row's ; Thy shadow is healing ; 
Yea, let sorrow herself dwell with me, 

if Thou wilt but hear. 
Then cometh peace to the soul, God's 

balm on the spirit; 
Yea, His gracious^ peace His hand 

reacheth down from His heaven. • 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 101 

Over that peace even sorrow herself 

has no powder. 
For its depths are the depths of His 

love ; its calm is Jehovah's. 
Yea, He is our Peace, and sorrow is 

but His bondservant. 
If thou His ambassador art, O Heaven- 
sent Sorrow, 
To treat for His peace, if thou dost 

come down from the heavens. 
His high chamberlain, to lead us away 

to His presence. 
Then welcome the grasp of thy hand, 

the tread of thy footstep, 
The tears of thine eyes, heavy-lidded ; 

we open our hearts. 

If thou, through the infinite spaces, 

wilt lead us to God. 
\ 



THANKSGIVING. 

Father, for this, my answered prayer, 

I thank Thee fervently ; 
For what am I that Thou shouldst care 

To give my wish to me ? 



102 VAGABOND RHYMES. 

Thou from whose hand the cradled 
suns 
Sing back Thy glorious praise, 
And teach the white, moon-mothered 
ones 
The splendor of Thy ways, 

Whose ears the archangel songs salute, 
While earth's most mighty hymn 

Goes choiring through the spaces mute 
To join the Seraphim, 

And Heaven, her golden curtain spread. 
Hangs high her cloud of pearls, 

And noon and morning blend, and shed 
New odors from new worlds ; 

And yet Thy Father-heart of love 

O'erlooks the crystal sea. 
And gives my prayer the power to 
move 

That heart to answer me. 

O wondrous heart of God ! In Thee 
Undreamed-of treasures lie ; 

Not filled by all infinity. 
Yet swayed by such as I. 



VAGABOND /RHYMES. 103 

He holds me with the mighty Hand 

That sent the planets on ; 
The eye that spaced Orion's band 

Guides me into His dawn. 

Then let the incense of my praise 

Find out a path to Thee. 
Teach Thou my heart a hundred ways 

To thank Thee fervently. 

I thank Thee for the answered prayer, 

Granted so graciously. 
I thank Thee for the sleepless care 

That breaths Thy breath in me. 

Spirit of God, whose mighty breath 
Breathes over worlds unborn, 

And from the chrysalis of death 
Unfolds the wings of morn, 

Brood o'er my heart ; and from its 
night 

Song out of sorrow bring; 
Say Thou again, " Let there be light," 

Again the stars shall sing. 

O Breath of God, blow full and strong 

On all our troubled ways, 
Till earth shall be one burst of song. 

And life a hymn of praise. 



THE FISHERMAN'S DAUGHTER. 

Och, playmate sea, is this your silver 
smilin' 
Afther your sthormy night? 
Shure ye are woman, all mankind be- 
guilin,' 
All rage, and thin all light. 

Ah, whisht, mavourneen, have ye tidin's 
for me 
Of me dear fisher boy? 
Even in sthorm ye know his likin' for 

Where is me heart's dear joy? 

Have ye kept faith wid him who trusted 
to ye 
And launched so brave, last night ? 
His father laughed and waved his old 
hand to me 
To ease me foolish fright. 

" Eileen, he's weathered many a tougher 
buflet ; 
An' faith ! God's still in hiven. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. 105 

His heart is warm ; a fisher's boy can 
rough it 
When his maid's troth is given." 

But we had words las' night; I am 
quick-blooded — 
Saint Pathrick wound me tongue — 
An' long before your waves the shores 
had flooded, 
Me very heart was wrung. 

Come back, me darlint ! O acushla, 
dearest, 
Come back, come back, machree ! 
O shame o' maidens that 1 sint me 
nearest 
To such a cruel sea. 

Ye met him, too, wid sthorms, ye 
cruel ocean. 
But could not drive him home. 
The sthorm he left was such a wild 
commotion. 
O Denis, dearest, come. 

Come back, an' oh, I'll be so gintle to 
ye 
Ye'll niver know me name. 



106 VAGABOA'D RHYMES. 

And yet so loviii' wid ye whin ye woo 
me 
Ye'U know I am the same. 

O Denis, is it ye beyont the beaches ? 

His father, comin' here ! 
I'd run beyont where'er the deep sea 
reaches 

For one word of me dear. 



" Drowned," did ye say, Pat brought 
ye word this mornin' ? 
O God ! me Denis dead ! 

Me last goodbye was but a cruel scorn- 
in.' 

sea, take me instead. 

Take me away ; I cannot bear its smilin" 

Over the lad it holds. 
Yet let me sthay ; for c^h, its wave be- 
guilin' 

Me dear, me dead, enfolds. 

An' Oh, I touldyethat I did not love 

ye! 
Wash out the words, O sea. 
O love, by the great sky that binds 

above ye, 

1 have no worruld but ye. 



VAGABOND RHYMES. lO: 



Tin years ! tin years ! an' sthill ye hoiilcl 
me lover. 
Ye are a cruel sea. 
Not till God bids ye all your dead un- 
cover 
Can he come back to me. 

" An' there was no more sea" — Is that 
God's sayin'? 
Och ! sorrowful for me. 
In the great Home made ready for our 
stayin' 
There shall be no more sea. 

I love ye, sea ; although ye have me 
jewel 
And hould him back from me ; 
And in my sorrow long I thought ye 
cruel ; 
Yet sthill I love ye, sea. 

Oh, in God's hiven, Denis, whin ye 
hould me 
Close in your lovin' clasp, 
Closer than yon grey waves that now 
enfold ye 
In such a death-lifce grasp, 



108 VAGABOND nilVAJES. 

I think me heart will like to burst wid 
gladness. 
Yet, in that ecstasy, 
I'd want the sea ; although it raved in 
madness. 
Yet sthill I'd want the sea. 

It shmiled below us whin ye said ye 
loved me ; 
And now for miny a year 
'T has been your grave ; and even that 
has moved me 
To hould it sthill more dear. 

An' so, me dear, although we'll be to- 
gether 
Just as we used to be, 
An' 'twill be hiven, an' the hivenly 
w-eather — 
Will God be vexed wid me 

If I should sthill be lonesome for the 
wather? 
He'll understand, machree. 
That havin' been a fisherman's wild 
daughther 
I'm homesick for the sea. 



TOGETHER. 

Thou and I, love, together 
On some little wonderful isle. 
All weathers were magical weather, 
All moods were a smile. 
Each even 
A heaven, 
Were we, love, together. 



Thou and I, love, forever. 
No matter how went the dull earth. 
All life were a musical river. 
And death but a birth, 
Then never 
To sever ; 
With thee, love, forever. 



Thou and I, love, together. 
And sorrow and gloom fled away. 
My heart grows as light as a feather, 
At thought of that day. 
Flee, sadness; 



VAGABOND RHYMES. IIU 

Come, gladness ; 
And we, love, together. 

Thou and I, love, together. 
How madly I thrill with delight. 
No tempest too stormy to weather. 
Day leaps over night. 
Ecstasy 
Comes to me. 
Love, we are together. 



FINIS. 



